Parli Italiano
by Jayden Shay
Summary: Sometimes right before Tony gets a migraine, he ends up speaking in italian without realizing it. Tony/Bruce, complete shmoop with a bit of h/c on top.


**Written for a kinkmeme prompt, as usual:**

**Tony is a migraine sufferer, and as part of an aura, ends up speaking in italian without realizing that he's doing so.**

**Translations in between lines; sorry if that interrupts the flow of things, but it seemed like the best option.**

"T'ho beccato!" Iron Man crows as he takes down yet another doombot, "That makes cinquanta! Come state facendo squadra?" From her position, Natasha can see him zipping overhead, still firing phasers at the last of the retreating bots.

_(Gotcha! That makes fifty! How are you doing team?)_

"We're all good here Tony," Natasha tells him over the comms, "Want to round up the Hulk?" She figures he'll want Bruce with him when the migraine finally settles in, and that's as good a way as any to excuse him from the post-fight celebration craziness. He can thank her later.

"Certo cosa." He disappears from sight in a blur of red and gold, just as Steve shoots Tasha a look clearly asking for a translation.

_(Sure thing)_

"He's got it," She assures him, waving for Clint to come and join them from where he's perched up on top of a pile of cars. He makes it look effortless as he leaps down, but she knows him well enough to notice that he's favoring his left side.

The rest of the team seems as weary as Natasha feels as they head back towards the tower; but no doubt the press will be gathering already. A nice long, hot shower followed by a nap - and maybe a meal if she's lucky - sounds a hell of a lot better than playing media circus, but it's all part of the job.

"How come Tony's got Hulk duty?" Clint complains, groaning as he sees the giant crowd that's amassed in front of the tower.

"Migraine," She explains, "And like you'd want to go try to round up his giant green boyfriend,". Steve's got his hood down, and taking out his earpiece is the first thing Clint ever does after a fight, but Natasha can still hear Tony over the comms, cooing to the Hulk in fluent italian. ("Non più rompendo amico!")

_(No more smashing buddy!)_

"It's seeming like a better option by the second," He grumbles back, but there's no real heat in it.

"Black Widow-"

"Ms. Romanov-"

"Widow, over here if you would-" She allows herself to be pulled from Clint's side for the moment to answer some questions. The reporters are surprisingly polite this time around, not making a big deal of her distraction. She's still got one ear monitoring the situation with Tony, even as she pauses to assure them that they'll have Doom captured for good within the week

"Posso avere lui per favore, tipo grande?" She hears, and almost cracks a smile. It's surprisingly cute, listening to him speak to the Hulk. "Ritorna a me, Brucey. Dai, lo puoi fare."

_(Can I have him please, big guy? Come back to me, Brucey. Come on, you can do it.)_

"Tony?" She hears dimly, as if from the bottom of a well. Banner's got to be awful close to Tony's comms.

"That's really a question for the-" She starts, but loses her train of thought rather quickly.

"Sei tu incolume?" (Si, Tony.) "Ahh," There's nothing but static for a moment, and then - "Ti amo," Tony's voice sounds husky, and that's more than enough for her. Bruce can handle him now. Natasha pulls out her earpiece and turns back to the man with the mic.

_(Are you unhurt? I love you.)_

"Sorry, What was- right, cleanup. Like I was saying, that's really a question for S.H.I.E.L.D, but..."

Tony flies them both up to the tower, keeping up a steady babble in Italian, only half of which Bruce understands. He's not entirely sure if he just can't keep up, or Tony's just got word salad – either way, he doesn't seem to be looking for a response. Bruce listens to him anyway, trying to pick up as many words as he can here and there.

He doesn't realize he's doing it at all now, but Bruce is familiar with the way Tony's face lights up when they speak in – stilted, on Bruce's part - Italian around the lab. (Pepper told him once that Maria used to speak to him almost exclusively in the language, wanting her son to grow up bilingual, but Bruce tries not to read into that so much).

Bruce is facing the dresser, tugging on a pair of sweatpants when he hears Tony curse. "Fuck," So the aura's gone. He's grimacing, trying to shield his eyes from the light streaming in through the window – apparently the headache is setting in quick too.

"Non cazzo?" He teases gently, gesturing wordlessly for JARVIS to close all of the blinds. It's dark in an instant, and Tony signs his thanks in return. Really though, Bruce should have thought to do that first thing.

_(Not "cazzo"? - fuck)_

"Vaffanculo," Tony whispers back, teasing, "I was speaking Italian?" He's looking a bit pale already, rubbing at his eyes and forehead.

_(Go fuck yourself)_

"Si," Bruce pats the bed next to him, a clear gesture for Tony to lie down. "Dormi. Mi prenderò cura di te." Stark doesn't argue, but watches him cross to their shared bathroom with heavy-lidded eyes, climbing into bed at a snail's pace. Bruce doesn't miss the slight quirk of his lips though, despite the headache.

_(Yes. Lie down/relax. I'll take care of you.)_

He's not gone long. He fills up a glass with water, grabs a few painkillers – wishing they worked a lot better on Tony's migraines than they do – and, deciding to be extra nice, wets a washcloth with cool water. It gives him the satisfaction of seeing Tony's face light up for just that split second when he returns.

"Sei troppo bello a me," He sighs as Bruce climbs into bed with him, moving slowly so he doesn't jostle Tony's head too much. Tony props himself up for a moment to take the pills Bruce offers, hands the glass back and is settled in record time. "Come ho fatto prendere cosi fortunato?" He asks, and Bruce puts a finger to his lips.

_(You're too good to me. How did I get so lucky?)_

"You talk too much," He whispers back. Tony's still sweaty from his suit, and Bruce dabs at his face and neck for a moment before settling the cool washcloth on Tony's forehead. The man opens his mouth like he's going to say something more, but Bruce shushes him before he can. "Relax, Tony."

"That feels nice. All I was going to say." Bruce just chuckles, bending to set the glass on the floor beside the bed. He's careful to keep his distance – any pressure on Tony's head or neck is usually too much for him – but he slips his arm around Tony's waist all the same, holding him gently. He knows Tony won't be able to sleep, but he lies still and listens to the short little breaths he takes all the same.

Bruce knows he's far from comfortable, but he tries his best anyway, lifting a hand to rub circles into Tony's chest. "Amo, ami, ama, amiamo..." He whispers.

_(Conjugating the verb 'to love')_

Tony's chest shakes with silent laughter. "Carino."

_(Cute.)_

"Lo sai," He agrees, pressing a gentle kiss to Tony's shoulder.

_(You know it.)_

Tony rolls to the side some, lifting the washcloth carefully to roll his eyes at Bruce. It's clear he regrets it quickly, grimacing and dropping the washcloth back into place. "Not helping the head, here,"

"You want me to leave?" Bruce offers, half-teasing, knowing Tony much prefers to be a drama queen than to be alone.

"No, no, no, no." Tony pleads with him, snuggling up closer, "Rimani."

_(Stay.)_

And he does.


End file.
